Changing Fate
by JediDragonRider22
Summary: With Urgals content to prove themselves at their games, and the Agaetí Mor'ranr taking place annually without exception, Alagaësia finally finds itself at peace. But when a new threat emerges, and the Rider's sword Arvindr is taken from an elven city, chaos begins to emerge once again, and the Dragon Riders hover on the verge of another war. Rating may change. Please Review!
1. An Urgal Rider

Arya stared out over the stretch of land in front of her. In the satchel that lay across her shoulder, were two dragon eggs, one small but covered with wide veins of a rich blue color, much darker than Saphira's scales, and the other a good bit larger, mainly black, with occasional flecks of dusty brown scattered across the smooth surface.

The portion of dirt that lay before her was set off into four large portions, divided again into the various matches and competitions the Urgals were very much into as a race. But while the games were fairly exciting, they were a little too violent for Arya's taste. She, unlike the other spectators, did not come to enjoy the show. She had come in an attempt to find an Urgal Dragon Rider, the task she had failed to do in the village she had visited recently, which was in a large cave set off in the middle of the Spine. Upon entering the village, she had discovered that the Urgals were already planning their next round of games. She took the information, and now was sitting around watching a bout of wrestling between two youngish-looking Urgals, one the probable victor, due to abnormally large, curved horns.

She sighed, thinking she should have become accustomed to the Urgals harsh way of doing things by now. It had been nearly twenty years since Galbatorix was killed and Nasuada made an alliance with them. But she had never gone to one of their games before. The only reason she had willingly come to such an event was out of necessity. Due to a disturbance before the last Agaetí Mor'ranr (or Peace Festival, in the common tongue of the humans), in which the dragon eggs were presented before the eligible youths of all the races, the Urgals could not send members of their race in time to be present for the ceremony. And so, Arya was stuck tracking Riders-to-be across Alagaësia until the Urgals had at least had a fair chance at one of their own being picked, which, at the moment, didn't seem likely.

Arya glanced down at the ground and kicked the soft dirt with the toe of her boot.

 _This would make decent farmland_ , she thought to herself. _It's a pity it's being used for such aggression._ But she knew it was better than the Urgals, with a necessity to fight, according to traditions of their race, attacking others, and thus renewing war among the land and peoples of Alagaësia.

A rough hand fell upon her left shoulder, and she spun around with inhuman speed, ready for anything.

She soon relaxed as she took in the sight before her: a young Urgal, largely resembling a human youth, other than the grey skin and yellow eyes, and the slight outgrowths on his head that hardly resembled anything at this point. He looked around 14, about the age the Urgals would start looking like Urgals: curled horns, large, bowed legs, and squared-off shoulders. In the brusque speech the Urgals generally spoke in and which Arya knew but little, the Urgal said, "Excuse me. Can I get through? I can't see very well from the back." Arya nodded and smiled, unable to remember the Urgal word for 'yes.' The Urgal stepped in front as she moved aside. Arya turned to walk away, but stopped as something in her satchel flinched.

Arya looked again at the eggs, and realized the speckled brown one was moving, as if the dragon inside was squirming around. She turned back to the young Urgal. "Excuse me," she said, repeating the phrase the child had used earlier. The Urgal turned around, looking confused. Arya placed her hands together in a cupped shape, and motioned for the Urgal to do the same. He followed her motion, with a quizzical expression on his face. Arya took the wiggling egg out of the satchel and placed it in the Urgal's outstretched palms.

The Urgal's eyes suddenly flooded with understanding, and he looked back up at Arya, suddenly realizing who she was. She smiled again, and the Urgal looked back at the egg, realized the movement in the structure, and then made it excruciatingly hard for Arya to read his emotions. She thought he looked excited and worried at the same time, almost as if he was imitating how she felt about Fírnen hatching for her.

There came a soft squeak from inside, and the egg was still for a moment before shaking even more violently as if redoubling its efforts to get out. Then the squeaks came louder and more frequent, until a crowd formed around the Urgal, who Arya had discovered was named Leläkô. The egg began to violently rock back and forth in the Urgals palms. A small crack appeared on the top, then another. Suddenly, one appeared down the side. With another series of squeaks a small brown head appeared out of a spot on the surface especially covered in cracks. Then head was soon followed by a weirdly angled body. The pieces of the shell fell out of his hands as the dragon settled itself in the Urgals arms.

As soon as they touched, the Urgal appeared startled. Arya knew from experience that he had just felt a blast of icy energy race into his body. Arya watched as the palm of his left hand shone bright, and then dimmed, revealing a diffused white oval in the center.

After that, Arya explained with motions, drawings, and simple sentences what had just occurred, and what was brushing against his thoughts was actually the conscience of his dragon, which he should name. After he inquired on what he should name it, she listed off the names of several previous dragons, and then told him he could also choose a name from his own language or another's. Eventually he settled on naming his dragon Hírador, after a previous dragon Rider who died in the fight against Galbatorix. When asked why, Leläkô told her the bravery reflected in the tale of his death would be hard to mirror, even among those of his own race.

Satisfied with the name, Arya contacted an elven spellcaster that was just a little while off, and informed him of what had occurred. This other elf (for he was fluent in the Urgal tongue) would be responsible for the basic rudimentary training Leläkô and Hírador would receive on their way to visit the elves in Du Weldenvarden. There they would be instructed by a small group of spellcasters and swordsmen, archers and warriors for the period of seven months. Then the new pair would fly to the new home of the dragon riders, Fyrsta Nyr (or 'new beginning' in the common tongue of the humans), where the new order of Dragon Riders would continue his training f (abiding by the Riders' saying that 'your training is never complete. There is always more yet to learn').

When the spellcaster arrived and led the new pair away, the crowd dispersed and went back to the ongoing games. Arya made arrangements for the night in a nearby inn (of sorts), and then proceeded to contact the elves on the edge of Du Weldenvarden and those in the elven cities outside, the dwarves, and Eragon and Saphira, far off as they were, to make the news of the new rider known among all the races.

Pleased with her work that day, Arya walked off to enjoy a good night's rest. She would be setting off at dawn to check on things with elves in Ellesméra (after all, she was queen now).

 ** _Please review! Please, Please, Please Review!_**


	2. Fyrsta Nyr

"Good, now try it again," Eragon told the young dwarf facing him. "You've got to remember to observe everything. Don't concentrate your focus too much on one thing. Don't be afraid to open your mind to the life around you. And, as my master told me, listen, and when you hear no more, come tell me what you have learned."

Eragon smiled as he departed the rock the dwarf was sitting on, remembering the words of Oromis with fondness. _At least I remember something from his lessons_. Eragon chuckled, recounting the countless hours he had spent sitting on the pine stump near his master's hut on the Crags of Tel'naeír, and he could understand the frustration of not being able to control yourself under the pressure of all the minds surrounding you. _Still,_ he thought. _It must be learned. When that dwarf finishes the task at hand, and indeed it is an immense task, he can truly be considered a Rider in full._

Eragon began walking back into one of the corridors leading into the vast structure in front of him. With the help of magic and the strength of the dragons, the new Order had built a place very equivalent to Vroengard, a stronghold which functioned as a place for the dragons to grow and Riders to be trained. It started with a massive stone hall perched high up on a mountaintop, built large enough to allow dragons to come and go within its chambers. An increasing number of structures soon surrounded the stone hall, including nesting houses and hatcheries, as well as places for Eragon and future Riders to live. In the following years, it continued to grow as one of the most impressive locations, acquiring a mythical stature in the eyes of many outside of its confines. It was, above all, beautiful, but even more so due to its great value among the new order of Riders

Eragon walked among the corridors and walkways until he reached a door carved with a single glyph from the ancient language, its meaning being 'hope.'

Eragon knocked. I musical voice beyond answered.

"Come in!"

Eragon opened the door to reveal a small room, extremely orderly, but whose areas were dominated by books and scrolls. In the corner there was a bowl-shaped sleeping area, meant for a dragon, who, for the moment, was absent.

"Master Eragon. What a pleasant surprise. Might I ask what brings you here?"

"A great day for surprises now isn't it Ismira? As for why I've come… it's a matter of little importance… for now, at least. But I was hoping to send you on a mission with possibly _political_ prominence."

Ismira frowned. She had become a Rider five years before, fifteen years after her mother, Katrine, had given birth to her, and, since then had advanced quickly. She had mastered opening her mind to the life around her, even plant life, and had been given her sword, Këldevân (or fountain of hope in the common tongue of the humans), after only four and a half years of training. Later on, she had been introduced to magic, reached the third level of the Rimgar, and even bested an amateur elf at sword fighting. Her dragon, Lenora had also accomplished much, being taught mainly by Saphira herself.

And so, Ismira didn't like the idea of going off into the world of politics.

"I know you don't want to, but someone has to. If anything this can be a lesson in patience.

"Fine, I'll do it. When do Lenora and I leave?"

"Tomorrow, if at all possible. There's a council taking place in the elven city of Nädindel, and they asked for a representative of the Riders." Eragon turned to leave.

"So soon?"

He looked back over his shoulder. "Yes, like I said, if at all possible."

"Alright then, if I must."

His tasks, for the moment, completed, Eragon made his way to the library. Over the past nineteen years, it had accumulated a large number of books, and any were free to add a poem or story to the collection.

Eragon found a scroll he had been reading earlier on the history of Dwarven religion, and sat down on a padded leather bench to continue:

 _'_ _and so, Gûntera finished his task and, thus completing it, set out on a journey to find some use for such a thing, as it was much less useful than any sentiment being…'_

When lunchtime came, Eragon set the scroll aside and joined in the rush for food. Finding the dining hall fairly full, he took a plate of food back up to his quarters, a beautifully decorated space set apart from the other structures and closest to the stone hall.

Inside, Eragon found Saphira napping in the bowl-shaped sleeping basin and, so as not to disturb her, quietly stepped forward, set the plate down on his writing desk, and continued writing a written examination on the Líduen Kvaedhí for an elf of twenty-two, who, upon discovering magic on her own, was pulled aside for private mentoring.

 _Little One, how has your day been so far?_ Saphira's thoughts projected themselves at Eragon.

 _Fine. I have begun instructing a new dwarf Rider, who's dragon you may or may not have met: Hefthyn, I think. I sent Ismira on a mission, and I read a complicated Dwarven script. And you?_

 _I taught Hefthyn, who, yes, I've met, about headwinds, and had a chat with a rather rambunctious elven rider by the name of Farwën. Perhaps you know her. She has yet to receive her sword._

 _Oh yes, I know Farwën. And I seem to remember this conversation, somewhat. Something about bread?_

 _We were debating over whether the best way to make bread was with a regular oven, magic, or dragon fire. In the end, we decided that bread heated with the right amount of dragon fire over the right period of time, in fact, tasted the best._

 _You sure know how to get yourself into interesting conversations._ After he said it, Eragon was unsure whether he meant it to be sarcastic. Saphira made a snort that sounded like laughter, and they soon both found themselves in a hysteric fit of giggles.


	3. The Life of a Queen

Nasuada sighed. She had not the patience today to deal with the people in front of her. It was getting on her nerves how many problems a kingdom could have in such a short time period.

 _Let's make this quick,_ she thought to herself as she sat up straighter in her velvet-lined throne. It was far too 'pretty' for her taste.

"I understand the necessity, Gûndren, but it was still against the law, and for that, I must punish you." Nasuada was very clear with her words, but the convicted criminal, unable to believe what she'd just said, protested.

"Your Majesty, I had no choice!"

"As have I now. I cannot allow people to sneak past the law. If I did, Alagaësia would never again find peace. And I don't think you'd appreciate another round of war."

Gûndren was probably only in his early-twenties, too young to remember much of the war with Galbatorix, but he was fully aware of the penalties of war. His father was killed in a fight against a large group of soldiers, who far outnumbered him.

He finally submitted to Nasuada shortly thereafter and was sent away to be flogged for his thievery.

Nasuada didn't like punishing him. She knew he was in need of what he stole, but he did have other choices, which for his own pride, he did not resort to. So he had to be punished, lest others should follow in his footsteps. If there was another way, she would have used it. Unfortunately, there was not.

Only seconds after the last person left, a messenger hurried into the room and knelt at the foot of the throne. When Nasuada bade him stand his face filled with excitement.

"And what, pray tell, do you have to say?" Nasuada asked, though a little too harshly, she admitted to herself.

"We just got a message from Arya, Your Majesty. An Urgal has just been made a Rider; he was chosen by a brown dragon he later named Hírador.

The news instantly uplifted her Nasuada's spirits, and a cheery smile spread across her face.

"At last. There may now finally be peace in Alagaësia." Over the past nineteen and a half years, only one Urgal Rider was chosen, a female named Zhâdathrek. There had been unrest throughout the Urgal tribes when year after year went by without another. It was good news indeed that another union between Urgal and Rider had come to pass.

"Thank you," Nasuada said in a kinder tone. "You may leave now. If you can, inform Arya that she has my utmost gratitude."

"I will, Your Majesty." Bowing, the messenger turned and walked briskly out of the throne room.

Summoning her handmaid, Lucilla, who had replaced Farica when she had grown too old (she was already an older woman during the Battle of Farthen Dûr), Nasuada asked if she had any appointments that morning, and finding she had not, was escorted by four guards to her private chambers to rest.

Nasuada did her best to hide her distress, when she was woken in the middle of her nap for a small bit of news.

"Honestly, gentlemen, you couldn't wait a few minutes? Alright then, what is it?"

One of the two men in front of her, a large man with a beard only few inches below his chin, round, brown eyes with dilated pupils, and a scar across his left cheek, began to speak.

"I'm sorry for the inconvenience Your Majesty, but I have been told that you should send a representative of our nation to a council in Nädindel, an elven city in Du Weldenvarden. The council will take place in only a week, so perhaps you could send someone who is a good bit closer to the city."

"Very well. I do believe Eragon's cousin Roran and his wife Katrina are visiting in Ellesméra right now. Perhaps I could contact them and tell them of my request to send them to yet another elvish city."

The rest of the people in the room nodded in approval, not that any was necessary.

"You may go now, gentlemen. I will see to the necessary preparations."

When the two men left, Nasuada had Lucilla bring her a hand mirror, which was enchanted so she could use it to communicate with others. She contacted an elf that was just outside the wards that protected Du Weldenvarden, a friend of hers named Laofín. The elf appeared in the mirror.

Looking up from whatever she was doing, the elf put two fingers to her lips, saying, "Atra esterní ono thelduin, Nasuada."

Nasuada repeated the gesture with the phrase, "Un atra evarínya ono varda, Laofín."

"Why have you contacted me?" Laofín asked in a smooth tone. She did not speak in the ancient language, much to Nasuada's relief, due to her lack of knowledge in that particular area.

"I was informed I needed to send a representative of my race to Nädindel, one of your cities. I wish to send my friends Roran and Katrina in my stead, but I cannot bypass the elven wards surrounding Ellesméra, where they are staying. If you could send a messenger, I would be most grateful. The council in Nädindel takes place only seven days from now."

"If it is speed you are worried about, you need not. I will go myself to Ellesméra, and I will run as fast as I can. Roran will get this message in plenty of time to traverse the distance between there and Nädindel. You have my word." This last phrase she did speak in the ancient language, but Nasuada understood well enough what she meant.

"You have my thanks."

"My pleasure."

And at that, Nasuada cut off the connection between them, placed the mirror on the bedside table, and got out of bed to get ready for whatever else in the day she would have to do. There was no use resting any longer; she wouldn't be able to fall back asleep anyway. She stretched her back and walked over to where Lucilla was standing, got dressed in a soft blue velvet gown and entered back into the life of someone who ruled a country.


	4. Talking to a Dragon

Ismira leaned closer to Lenora. Since the day before she had been busy getting ready for her trip, so it was nice to be alone with her dragon on a peaceful journey to Nädindel. The sky was clear, and the wind was with them, and there were no obstacles on their course ahead.

She opened her mind to Lenora and enjoyed the peaceful presence of her thoughts rubbing against her own.

 _What is it, partner-of-my-heart?_ the dragon asked.

 _Oh, nothing. Just enjoying your company._

 _As I yours._

 _Well, off on another political mission, are we? Sometimes I wonder if Eragon really is trying to test our patience._

 _I think he might just be._

Ismira laughed, the musical sound filling their quiet surroundings. She loved flying, she loved anything that she could do with her white dragon. It had only been five years since Lenora had hatched for her, but now Ismira couldn't imagine life without her: boring, dull, and while she'd have her wonderful family, she wouldn't have that that she treasured the most.

 _So why are they holding the council in Nädindel? Aren't we all getting together to talk about a Rider's sword?_

 _Yes, we are. And this particular sword, Arvindr, happens to be in Nädindel at the moment. There has been discussion over whose possesion it should be now that the last relative of its Rider was killed by a disease._

 _How is that possible? The last relative was an elf. Couldn't they have used magic to heal them?_

 _Apparently is was incurable._

 _That's unfortunate._

 _Yes, now can we get on a lighter topic. We have no need to talk about Death._

 _Of course. So, why does Eragon want us there?_

Ismira sighed. _He wants the sword to return to the Riders._

 _What! Why?_

 _Because it's a powerful weapon. He doesn't want it to fall into the wrong hands… And he thinks that because no heir has been named for the sword, it's only right for it to return to its proper home._

 _Which is with the Riders?_

 _Yes._

 _I see. This mssion might be more interesting then it first seemed._

 _Maybe, but I don't see how that could be a good thing._

 _You're the one who wanted adventure._

 _So what? That doesn't make it a good thing._

Lenora made a gurgling sound that Ismira guessed was laughter. _You're one of a kind, did you know that._

 _Yes, your just realizing that?_

 _No._

Ismira laughed again. This conversation was getting nowhere.

 _Do you have enough energy to fly through the night? You'll never get anywhere on tired wings._

 _I'll fly tonight, but we can stop tomorrow, and you need not worry about me. I could fly for a hundred nights if necessary._

 _I doubt it, but we'll just leave it at that._

 _Fine by me. We should reach the Dwarven trading outpost of Hedarth by sunset tomorrow. We can spend the night there._

They stopped talking after that, flying together, quietly enjoying one another's presence. That night Ismira slept in the saddle, and the following day, they, following Lenora's prediction, reached Hedarth only minutes before sunset.

The dwarves and traders in the small trading outpost were more than happy to provide Ismira and Lenora with shelter for the night, however hard it was to accommodate the dragon's bulk: the pair was extremely comfortable that night. In the morning, they set off early, yet the inhabitants of Hedarth still managed to wake up in time to wish them farewell:

"Please come again!" one man shouted.

"Yes, we enjoyed your stay. Tell the Riders they are always welcome here," a woman said with a smile.

"I will," Ismira replied. Lenora got off the ground with a quick flap of her wings, and flew away towards the north.

 _If we fly swiftly and the wind remains under my wings, we should reach Nädindel within the next three days, quite possibly the next two._ Lenora's thoughts interrupted the silence between them.

 _That's good news._ Silence consumed them once again.

This time it was Ismira who broke the silence. _Let's tell riddles to pass the time. I've been told that's what master Eragon did when he spent long days in the saddle during the battle against Galbatorix._

 _As long as you go first. I can't think of a good one._

 _Alright. Let me think… Oh! I'll tell you one I heard from another Rider. What is so delicate that saying its name breaks it?_

 _I don't know anything that delicate. Couldn't it be anything if you said its true name?_

 _Saying something's true name won't always break it. Most of the time it doesn't._ Ismira pointed out.

Lenora thought for a moment. _Alright,_ Lenora finally said. _I give up what is it?_

 _It's silence._

 _I should have thought of that._

 _Yes, but you didn't._

 _Alright, my turn. They come out at night without being called, and are lost in the day without being stolen. What are they?_

 _Easy, stars._

 _How'd you know?_

 _You already told me that one. The more you take of me, the more you leave behind. What am I?_

 _How come you give me all the hard ones?_

 _I don't._

 _Then how come I can't solve them?_

 _That one was footsteps._

 _But technically, you leave foot prints behind, not footsteps._

 _Whatever. Your turn, Lenora._

 _Hmmm. What is harder to catch the faster you run?_

 _I have to admit, I'm stumped._

 _Come on. That's an easy one!_

 _For you! You know the answer._

 _I came up with it._

 _Just tell me the answer, Lenora._

 _Your breath!_

 _I can't argue with that. Remember when I attempted to beat Eragon in a race, desperately failed, and passed out._

 _Yes, and he woke you up by dumping water on your head!_ Lenora laughed.

 _It wasn't funny._

 _Yes it was. It was HILARIOUS!_

 _Oh yeah. I was laughing so hard._

 _No you weren't; but that doesn't mean it wasn't funny._

Ismira sighed. She could never win a fight with her dragon.

* * *

 ** _There's chapter 4! As always, I ask for reviews!_**


	5. An Uexpected Theft

**_Sorry it's so short, but people were demanding an update. More to come!_**

* * *

Nädindel was a major elven settlement, second to but a few, but it was far more sheltered and hidden than even Ellesméra. If not for her magical abilities and the elves positioned outside to welcome the visitors for the meeting, she never would have found the place.

She found a place to sleep for the night. The elves had a special place for Riders and their dragons.

After they had gotten settled, Ismira left her dragon to look around for a while. The council would not take place for another three days, but preparations had already started, so the pathways were full of elves, singing, dancing, getting ready.

The main hall, where the council would take place, was located in the center of the city, about a half-mile from where they were staying. It would be a short walk there when the day came.

For now, though, Ismira needed to find the local smith to repair on of the links for her saddlebags. Lenora couldn't carry anything without it.

After asking around for a while, Ismira located the smith, an elderly elf named Färym, who gladly agreed to help. He told her that he would have it ready for her the next morning.

With that done, she went back to rest. It had been a long way to Nädindel, many, many leagues, and she needed to sleep.

Ismira woke to shouting. She rushed to the window, but couldn't see anything when she looked out. Nothing seemed amiss where she was. She quickly woke Lenora, told her were she would be, and rushed out into the early morning.

The shouting was coming from the direction of the great hall, and she began to run, casting a spell to quicken her feet.

She arrived out of breath, watching as people and elves ran around in ordered choas. She could only make out bits and pieces of what they were saying: "the sword", "where'd he go!?", "stolen!"

With horror she realized what had happened: Arvindr had been stolen.

* * *

 ** _So there you are! Please review and tell me what you think!_**


	6. Clues

Eragon was dismayed when he heard what Ismira had to tell him. It was supposed to be a peaceful meeting, not the location of a robbery.

"Do they know anything about the thief or where he went?"

"Well, he couldn't have found it unless he was either an elf or invited to the meeting. The wards around the forest would prevent that. If not, his spellcasting powers rival the elves of old. That possibility is highly unlikely, so we either have a traitor in our midst or someone found out about Arvindr who wasn't supposed to."

"Did anyone see him steal it?"

"The guards inside where killed. The guards outside saw nothing. Whoever we're dealing with is highly skilled in combat and stealth."

"So he's extremely stealthy, smart, possibly violent, a talented spellcaster, and an excellent swordsman. The odds are definitely stacked against us."

"I agree. What are we to do?"

"I'm sending a group of Riders to join you. For now, you and Lenora should aid the elves in tracking down the thief, if that's even possible."

"But, Master, some of the most talented elven spellcasters are working on this. What could I possibly contribute?"

"Talent is not everything; neither is renown. You'd be surprised. You are incredibly skilled yourself, so you can be of use to them even if they are better. Besides, maybe you'll learn something."

"As you wish."

Ismira ended the spell and emptied the water into the basin in her washroom. She combed through her hair with her fingers as she thought about what had occurred. After a few minutes, she left to the main hall.

"We've already tried skrying. He must have cast a spell against it. We tried counter-spells of every variety, but, so far, nothing's worked. He left no traces at the site of the robbery and there's no reason he would have particularily wanted to kill the guards other than that he needed to escape without anyone being able to trace him. He was very, very thorough."

The elf finished speaking and Ismira pondered what she had been told.

"Do you know why anyone would want Arvindr?"

"Well, it is a Rider's sword, virtually indestructible, and incredibly powerful in the right hands. Anyone could have taken it if they wanted to control something, or attack someplace, or steal something else. There's infinite possibilities. No way of tracking our thief through reason."

They stopped beside the now empty case where Arvindr had been kept. Ismira caught something in the corner of her eye: a scratch on the side of the case. Upon further inspection, she found a burn mark underneath.

"Did you not notice this before?"

"We did, but we couldn't get anything out of it."

"There may be no way of tracking our thief through reason, but our thief knew none."


End file.
